


Lycanthropic, Misanthropic, same difference

by Hawkbringer



Series: AO3 Tags Generator for Hannigram [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Abrupt Ending, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Choking, Crack Treated Seriously, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, M/M, Random & Short, Sassy Will Graham, Surprise Kissing, Will Graham Knows, Will Graham is a Cannibal, ao3 tag generator, that tag is so dramatic bruh it aint that serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23722597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbringer/pseuds/Hawkbringer
Summary: Someone in Baltimore has manufactured a Lycan prion, only passed, like mad-cow disease, by eating brain matter. Unfortunately, their subject got away, and got caught by Hannibal. Because he prepares his meats with care, neither Hannibal nor Will Graham himself got infected. But most of the guests at Hannibal's last dinner party weren't so lucky. Will has done his job, knows more than he lets on, and works up the confidence to confront the Ripper.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: AO3 Tags Generator for Hannigram [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708636
Kudos: 12





	Lycanthropic, Misanthropic, same difference

**Author's Note:**

> zesty werewolf shenanigans - well, obviously, zesty means how he cooks them. Does Hanni cook /only/ werewolves? Or does werewolf-ism start spreading like a virus among Baltimore's elite, from eating the prions in someone's brain one night at Hannibal's? And it wasn't even Hanni's /design/ and a lot of them commit suicides and Will doesn't go see most of them, except. Hannibal hangs one. Or they hang themself, in a way that makes it clear Will should get involved. Perhaps /after/ Will has figured out he's a cannibal and helps him hide bodies and get the FBI off his scent now.

Hannibal tries to misdirect Will by saying clearly, some dog got into and bit his deer he shot or something and it's a /terrible/ cover story and Will is almost embarrassed for him and puts a hand on his arm with a very quiet face and lays out all the ways this could have happened and as he gets to the conclusion, he starts rubbing his thumb into Hanni's forearm and a smile ghosts over his face, settles there, grows. 

"You are /never/ that careless with your meat, Hannibal. And it's a /prion/ passed by eating /brain matter/." He bites his lip and looks slightly sideways off through the window. "Why'd you do it? Just curious, like always?" He glances back and allows/forces the light of interest to gleam in his eyes. Hannibal's eyes narrow and Will picks up a nearby knife large enough to slit his own throat and hands it him. 

Hannibal is /very/ momentarily stunned. Will follows up with, "Curious how long I've known?" And tells him, lets the smile play around his lips, pretends his way into Hannibal's head far enough that it doesn't jar to think about it, to say it out loud. "Far and away long enough to have told Jack Crawford, and I haven't. And I /won't/. Hannibal." He tries to catch his other's eye. "I want to solve this case. Did you manufacture this lycan prion somehow?" 

"No." Hannibal is still holding the knife Will handed him. He does /not/ feel comfortable holding it. 

"Do you know the guy who did?" 

The hand tightens. "No." 

"Well, that's case closed on this end, then. You'll help me go over the case files under Jack's supervision starting on Monday?" Will summarily exits Hannibal's personal space, strutting off to grab his coat from where he'd thrown it over the back of a chair, casting him one backwards glance. 

Hannibal hasn't moved. Will is very aware that he is seconds away from a very precarious situation and the fact that Hannibal /is not moving/ tells him more than any possible set of words that to win this round, he has to leave /now/. 

He has to let Hannibal come to terms with the knowledge, and he has to behave himself, and then Hannibal will answer his questions calmly as always, come Monday, at work. In a professional environment. 

Nothing like the intimate one they've drawn up for themselves between the stainless steel kitchen island and glossy wooden countertops. Nothing like /home/.

Will has his hand on the final doorknob standing between him and his car when he hears footsteps. He turns, adrenaline spiking even as he realizes that, since the steps are audible, Hannibal is /not/ about to kill him. The adrenaline fuels his arousal as Hannibal, now sans knife, stops a few paces further back than he usually does when the two of them are alone. 

"Yes?" Will asks neutrally. 

"I do not wish for you to go," Hannibal replies baldly, and it may be true, on any of several levels. Will chooses to ignore most of the darker ones and simply smiles. 

"And?" He's half-expecting an invitation to drinks in the den, but Hannibal responds all business. 

"I know which person to blame for the outbreak." 

Will snorts, his smile so simple, so shallowly-layered. He truly finds that comment /amusing/, on a very simple level. "You mean, besides you?" He has a mental image of himself poking Hannibal in the chest and decides not to attempt to make that fantasy a reality. 

"Yes," Hannibal replies very succinctly. "I have already traced back the list of dinner party guests to the approximate dormancy period of the disease and identified the woman responsible." 

"You mean the woman you /ate/." 

"Partially." Hannibal tilts his head slightly, smoothly placing Will's coat on the rack where it belongs and leading the younger man back into the house proper by the simple fact that the boy was hanging on his every word. "Does that disturb you, Will? That I have partaken of human flesh?" 

Will snorts with a shrug, kicking out an eye-poppingly expensive dining room chair and flopping down into it. "Not really. I've 'partaken' myself, haven't I?" He glances up. "You've fed me plenty of meat you prepared yourself, haven't you?" He turns his head away. "It doesn't bother me." 

Hannibal steps close and reaches out impulsively, grabbing Will's chin and studying his expression. "Are you lying to yourself, Will Graham? I have /killed/ and /eaten humans/, the way other hunters kill and eat /pigs/. If you are not afraid, then there is something /very/ damaged about your psyche indeed." 

Will tries to keep the laugh from burbling out between his squished lips but doesn't manage. 

"That /you/ would say that!" he manages, trying to turn his head away to get out of Hannibal's grip. When he doesn't manage that either, he settles, content to give Hannibal what he wanted from the situation, physical control. "Oh, Dr. Lecter. I hardly think you're /harmless/. I just know I have nothing to fear!" 

A muscle jumps in Hannibal's jaw and it's just about the most spectactularly engrossing sight Will has ever seen. "And what makes you so sure, my lost little lamb?" His voice grates, bordering on anger. 

Will wonders what he'd taste like if Hannibal killed him now. "I am not a /pig/," he whispers back, Hannibal's grip having shifted, starting to close around his throat. Will swallows and sticks his chin out in what /would/ be an aggressive move, but for the way it forces his neck harder against Hannibal's fingers. He lets his eyelids flutter and his mouth fall open and there is nothing Hannibal wants to do more in this moment than kiss the life right out of him. 

Hannibal blinks twice, once for his thoughts, and twice for the way Will's face is turning an impressive shade of red as he gapes like a fish. 

Hannibal lets go. Will pants and heaves and the blood drains out of his face back into his major veins and Hannibal is left with this peculiar itching in his fingertips. He stares at them as Will's gaze falls to the floor, getting his breath back. 

Hannibal's eyes remain fixed on his own fingers as, to test his hypothesis, he places his right hand firmly atop Will's shoulder. The younger man's head jerks up with ingrained, animal fear that melts into confusion as Hannibal urges Will to stand with the grip he has on his collarbone. 

Hannibal puts both hands back on Will's face, committing the rasp of his facial hair to memory. To this end, his hands slide all over Will's sweaty face, memorizing his ears, his eyelids, and his nose. All ten fingers meet over his lips and Will's eyes are still closed and Hannibal presses a kiss to Will's lips with his fingers in the way. 

Will's blood, humming merrily away beneath his fingertips, makes the halfway measure a modicum more satisfying. 

When his fingers fall, he realizes Will has grasped his lapels and wrinkled them beyond servicability. The suit will have to be cleaned. His hands fall directly onto Will's to lift them from his lapels and inspect the damage curling fists have done, but William takes the initiative then, in a move that Hannibal had not had time to imagine nor prepare for. 

He lifts onto his toes very briefly to press their lips together.


End file.
